


Succession

by blueberrynewt



Series: Experiments in Terra [3]
Category: Galactica 1980
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 09:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18635308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberrynewt/pseuds/blueberrynewt
Summary: It's now been thirty-six years since Galactica discovered Earth, and for Troy, Dillon, and Jamie, that old life is all but forgotten. But teenagers have a way of finding things out, and the adventures are far from over for this odd, cobbled-together family of theirs.





	1. Dust and Sand

“Come on, Lucy, we’re running late!”

“I’m coming!” Lucy called, scooping up her backpack from the couch. “Ish,” she amended, frowning. “Has anyone seen my phone charger?”

Her mother came into the living room, looking harried. “No, where did you see it last?”

“I had my phone plugged in overnight. It should’ve been in my room, but I’m sure I got everything from my room. I’ll check again.”

The charger wasn’t in her room. Lucy emerged a minute later, sighing in exasperation. “Cool,” she said, “now my belongings are disappearing into thin air. Maybe this is how goblins make friends. Or poltergeists.”

“Your charger’s in the electronics bag,” Amy announced, lugging her suitcase down the stairs.

“Electronics bag? Since when do we have an electronics bag?”

“Since, like, half an hour ago. Hey, Luce, can you get the door for me?”

“Sure.” She went to open the door, adding as she passed her sister, “You get to carry the electronics bag, then, since it was your idea.”

“Whatever.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were on the road at last. They drove south through heavy traffic, and made it to San Jose long after the appointed time. Perrin was sitting on the steps outside his house when they pulled up, alongside an overstuffed duffel bag. His father came outside and hurried forward.

“Hi, Starla.”

“Hey, Leo.” Starla ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry we’re so late. Had some technical difficulties.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled. “Believe me, I know how it is. And I’ve only got the one kid.”

Starla returned the smile, a little ruefully. “Yeah, well. We made it. It’ll be pretty late by the time we make it to L.A., though, especially since we’ll have to stop for at least one meal.”

“Too bad Amy doesn’t have her license yet. You could have her spell you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Starla assured her brother. “I just feel bad about keeping our poor parents up past their bedtime.”

“You make them sound so old. I doubt Dillon has gone to bed before midnight since he was twelve.”

“Mom!” Amy called from the passenger seat. “You coming?”

“I’ll be there in a second, sweetie,” Starla replied, then turned back to Leo. “I gotta go. See you in a weeks.”

“Yeah.” He gave her a quick hug. “Have fun at your conference.” Turning to the car, he added, “You three have fun, and be nice to your grandparents!”

It was a long drive. By the end of it, Starla was sorely wishing she could ask Amy to take the wheel. They reached Troy, Dillon, and Jamie’s house around midnight and piled out of the car, all rubbing their eyes. All four of them collected their luggage and tramped up to the front door, which opened before Starla had raised a fist to knock.

“Hey there!” Dillon kept his voice low as he ushered them in. The dogs, Winnie and Percy, got up from in front of the fireplace and made their way over, huffing a greeting. “Good to see you all. Jamie and Troy are asleep already, or we’d have a better welcome. But this way, I get all the first hugs in.”

Once he had embraced his daughter and three grandchildren, he began giving them directions. “Perrin, we set you up in your dad’s old room. Also known as the library and TV room. Girls, you’re sharing the guest room. Starla, I’m afraid you’re stuck with the couch. Troy swears it’s very comfortable to sleep on.”

“I don’t mind.” Starla hefted a bag onto her shoulder, then asked, “What time were you thinking for breakfast?”

“Oh, we usually eat around seven,” Dillon replied. Seeing the teenagers’ faces fall, he grinned. “But we can push it back for company. Just get up when you get up, and we’ll make something.”

“Bad plan,” Starla advised. “With this lot, ‘get up when you get up’ means ‘don’t come out of your room until noon at the earliest.’ We need a deadline if we all want to have breakfast together before I take off for Phoenix.”

Dillon laughed. “How about nine, then? Can you kids handle that?”

They nodded grudgingly, and Starla raised her eyebrows at them. “Breakfast at nine means you have to be up _before_ nine. We’re all helping with breakfast.”

“We are?” Perrin looked crestfallen, then resigned as he met his aunt’s gaze. “We are,” he agreed.

 

***

 

Lucy woke to the blaring of her alarm at eight-fifteen the following morning. She fumbled with her phone to silence the alarm, while Amy sat up in the other bed and rubbed her eyes.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” Lucy said cheerily as she swung her legs out of bed and started sorting through her suitcase for pants. “Or whatever we’re having for breakfast.”

“I hope it’s not oatmeal,” was all Amy said in response.

When the sisters made their way to the kitchen, Lucy found herself immediately swept up in a hug. She smelled a familiar orange blossom perfume and hugged back, smiling. “Hi, Grandma.”

Jamie released her and moved on to Amy, then stepped back and surveyed them both, smiling. “It’s so good to see you, girls. Are you both taller than me now? Heavens. I think I’m the shortest one in the family again. At least I’m taller than the dogs,” she added, glancing to where Percy and Winnie were enjoying their own breakfast.

“Height is no indication of merit,” Troy pointed out, coming over and putting a hand on Jamie’s shoulder.

She scoffed. “Easy for you to say. You’re freakishly tall. I thought maybe you’d finally shrink when you got old, but you just got skinny.”

“Watch who you’re calling old,” Troy shot back. Jamie shrugged good-naturedly.

“Well, you are the oldest of us. Withered and wise.” Jamie grinned and patted his shoulder, then returned to the counter to grease muffin tins.

Troy turned back to the girls, who had watched the banter between their grandparents with bemused affection. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding like he meant it. “Do I get hugs, too?”

Perrin showed up a few minutes later, and got a similar welcome from Troy and Jamie. Starla made coffee and set the kids to setting the table, while Troy sliced fruit into a bowl and Jamie fried sausages. In another twenty minutes, they all arranged themselves around the table and began helping themselves to muffins, sausage, fruit salad, and cranberry juice. Jamie beamed around at them all.

“It’s wonderful to have you all here,” she said, buttering a muffin. “Thanks for lending us your kids, Star. It’s been getting a little dull around here.”

“Dull? With you three all in one place?” Starla raised an eyebrow.

Jamie laughed at that. “Okay, that’s fair. Still, it’ll be nice to have some young people around for a change.”

Dillon nodded fervently. “Maybe with the kids around, Jamie will stop boring us to tears with nonstop election coverage. We have to keep reminding her she’s been retired for nine years.”

Amy leaned forward at that. “Well, it is a very important election,” she put in. “You know, Trump’s campaign represents a lot of what’s worst in American society. He’s got the support of KKK leaders, all sorts of neo-Nazis —”

“We _know_ , Amy. We heard all about it on the drive down.” Perrin rolled his eyes. “Maybe we can put those two in a room together and they can talk about politics for the whole week,” he suggested to Dillon.

Dillon grinned. “Now that’s a good idea.” Jamie whacked him on the arm with her napkin, and he turned to her with an innocent expression. “What? You don’t want to talk about politics with your granddaughter?”

“I would _like_ ,” Jamie retorted, “to talk about important issues and know that my family actually cares about what happens to this country.”

Dillon sobered. “Of course we care.” He nodded at Troy. “We have reason enough to care, even if we were only worried about ourselves. I hate to think of someone like Pence in the Oval Office.”

“I just wish you’d stop treating this election like some kind of joke,” Jamie said, nibbling at her muffin. “I mean, a year ago, none of us thought Trump would make it this far, and the amount of support he has is honestly frightening.”

“To me, too,” Dillon agreed. “I’m sorry if I seemed…flippant. I do know how much this election matters.”

“Yeah.” Perrin looked down at his plate.

Jamie smiled and shook her head. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy to have everyone here this morning. I wish you’d come visit more often.”

 

***

 

Starla stayed long enough to help clean up from breakfast, then hugged everyone goodbye in the front yard. “You three be good,” she said to the kids, looking sternly around at them. “By which I mean,” she added, “don’t be like me when I was a teenager.”

Amy laughed at that. “We’ll do our best not to follow your example. We’ll be fine, Mom,” she insisted in a more serious tone. “Really.”

“I know you will.” Starla gave out another round of hugs, then reached for the handle of her suitcase. “I’d better hit the road. I’ll see you all on Saturday. Call if you need anything.” So saying, she turned and got into her car. The others stood and watched her drive away, then went back inside.

“You three got any plans for today?” Troy asked, sitting in an armchair and leaning down to pet Percy. Lucy settled herself on the floor next to Winnie, and shook her head.

“Don’t think so. You?”

“We’re retired,” Troy answered with a grin. “We don’t plan, we just do whatever we want whenever we want to.”

“Sounds nice.” Lucy fondled Winnie’s ears. “So what do you want to do now?”

“I’m not sure,” Troy confessed. “That’s the problem with not making plans.”

In the end, they went to the beach. Once there, they dispersed somewhat — while Perrin and Amy took to the water, the grandparents set off on a walk with the dogs, and Lucy stretched out on a towel with one of the books she’d brought. A while later, a shadow fell over the page she was reading, and she looked up to see that Troy had returned and was settling down beside her, Winnie and Percy at his heels. He gestured at the book. “How’s it going?”

“As of page forty-seven, it’s fantastic,” she replied, squinting up at him. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Building sandcastles, getting sand in our hair. Made a spaceship out of driftwood. Normal stuff.” Troy grinned.

Lucy peered over her shoulder and spotted Dillon and Jamie splashing in the waves with Amy and Perrin. “You didn’t feel like swimming?”

“I felt like coming over to talk to my granddaughter,” Troy replied. “Unless she’d rather be left alone.”

“No, it’s fine.” Lucy closed her book, not without a twinge of regret, and rolled onto her back, closing her eyes. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing in particular.” Troy shrugged. “Just wanted to check in. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She opened her eyes a fraction of an inch and looked at him. “Why?”

“Just wondering. You’re very quiet, you know. I wanted to make sure you weren’t avoiding the group for some reason.”

“What? No.” The idea annoyed her a little. “I just felt like reading.”

Troy raised his hands in a placating gesture. “That’s completely fair. Do you mind if I join you? To tell you the truth,” he admitted, “I _don’t_ actually feel much like swimming.”

Lucy shrugged. “Sure.”

A dog trotted over from another family, and nipped at Winnie’s tail. Winnie wasn’t as young as she had once been, but she’d never ignore a challenge like that, and was soon wrestling with the other dog and scattering sand everywhere. Percy, several years her senior, lay down with a huff next to Troy and closed his eyes. Troy patted Percy’s head absently and watched the playing dogs for a minute, then turned back to Lucy, who had resumed reading.

“What’s the book?” he asked.

She finished a paragraph before answering, then showed him the cover. “It’s the third in the _Earthsea_ series,” she explained. “Wizards and stuff.”

Troy studied the cover. “Do you like to read aloud?”

Lucy frowned slightly. “I guess? I don’t do it much. I used to read to Perrin sometimes when we were little, but that was a long time ago.”

“Want to read to me?”

“Um. Okay, sure.” She looked puzzled. “Why, though?”

“Well, you’re clearly invested in whatever’s happening in the book, and I’d like to spend time with you. It seemed like a reasonable solution.”

“Okay.” Lucy turned back to the page, found her place, and began.

“ _They were out on the water already_ ,” she read, “ _the sail opening like a white wing from the mast, catching the growing light…_ ”

Troy closed his eyes and lay back on the sand. Percy shuffled forward and rested his head on Troy’s shoulder. Lucy glanced up occasionally from her reading, and smiled. _Thanks, Granddad_.

 

***

 

They stayed at the beach until sunset, when they all sat together and watched that great fiery star sink into the ocean, painting the tops of the waves in unearthly reds and golds. There was definitely something magical about moments like this, Lucy thought, with her sister on one side and her grandma on the other, and the dogs curled up on the warm sand beside them. The world felt full somehow, like a cathedral with stained-glass windows and high, vaulted ceilings. A gull soared across her field of vision and she watched it raptly, mesmerized by its flight and the rhythmic rush of the waves below.

When the brilliance of sunset had faded and the temperature began to drop, everyone got to their feet and started gathering up towels, sandals, half-eaten snacks, and tubes of sunscreen. The six of them piled into the truck — the three grandparents nestled comfortably in the front seat, and the teenagers squished onto the narrow backseat, where they hunched over their knees and tried not to elbow each other — and made for home.

Half an hour after they got home, Lucy was sprawled on her bed with a towel around her head, scrolling through her phone. The door opened, and she looked up to see Amy (likewise towel-headed) munching on a piece of pizza leftover from lunch.

“I’m bored,” Amy announced, sitting on her bed. Her hair towel shook loose with the movement and began to unravel.

“Sorry,” Lucy replied insincerely.

Amy rolled her eyes. “Okay, helpful. What should we do?”

“I dunno what _you_ should do. I’m not bored.”

“Hmph.” Amy pouted for a minute, then her eyes lit up. “Hey! This place has, like, an attic, doesn’t it?”

Lucy glanced over. “I guess. Probably. Yeah, it must.”

“Have you ever been in it?”

“No,” Lucy admitted.

“Let’s check it out! I bet there’s tons of weird stuff in it. From, like —” Amy counted decades on her fingers “— the fifties?”

Her interest piqued, Lucy put down her phone and sat up. “Okay,” she said. “I’m listening.”

They recruited Perrin to the cause, and soon found the entrance to the attic in the ceiling right outside the upstairs bathroom. Amy delegated Perrin as lookout. He grumbled about always being made lookout, but went to stand halfway down the stairs in order to keep an eye on the kitchen, where the grandparents were making tea and watering houseplants.

Amy dragged a chair under the trapdoor and stood on tiptoe atop it, but could only brush the whitewashed wood with her fingers. They stood back to reevaluate, and a minute later Lucy was gingerly stepping onto her sister’s shoulders, while Amy stood braced against the wall. So supported, Lucy was able to lift the trapdoor aside, coughing at the cloud of dust the action dislodged. Sticking her head and shoulders through the gap, she peered around at the gloom.

“I need a flashlight.” She felt around with her hands. “Hang on, there’s —” she fumbled “— yes! There’s a rope ladder. Mom and Uncle Leo must’ve left it here when they were kids.”

“Well, hurry up,” grunted Amy from below. “You’re kinda heavy.”

Lucy pulled at the tangle of ropes and dropped the ladder down, giving it a tug. “Seems secure.” Gripping the sides of the opening, she stepped off Amy’s shoulders and tested her weight on the ladder. When it held, she clambered up and turned to stick her head down.

“Ow,” Amy was saying as she rolled her shoulders. “Next time, I’m standing on you.”

“We need a flashlight,” Lucy said again.

Her sister rolled her eyes. “Wrong century, Luce. Here.” Pulling out her phone, she unlocked it with a series of swipes and passed it up to Lucy. Lucy took it, turned on its built-in flashlight, and shone it around the attic, grinning.

“Dude, there’s so much crap up here. Get Perrin and come on.”

Amy hissed down the stairs to Perrin, then mounted the ladder. When they were all present, Lucy drew up the ladder and swung the trapdoor shut with a soft _thump_. Perrin took out his phone as well, and aided by the two lights, they set to exploring.

It was amazing, Lucy thought, how much _stuff_ people could accumulate over a lifetime. They found a box of yellowing cookbooks, a pile of curtains that had been shredded by one dog or another, a collection of New York City souvenirs that looked like they came from the eighties. Lucy found herself wondering about the stories behind the various items they unearthed, imagining the moments they hinted at — moments from her own mother’s life, as well as her uncle’s and grandparents’. An assortment of child-sized clothing made her picture her mother as a little girl, dressed in these clothes, in that house Lucy had seen only in old photographs. Or maybe in another house, with another set of parents.

All the teenagers knew that Troy, Dillon, and Jamie were not their biological grandparents. They knew that Starla and Leo (or Lip, as his adoptive parents still called him) had been born to people named Reta and Pell. But their birth parents had died when the children were young, in some kind of accident that nobody liked to talk about, and had been adopted by Reta’s and Pell’s three best friends. Among themselves, the cousins had decided that their biological grandparents most likely died in a drunk driving incident. Lucy sometimes wondered what they had been like, but never asked.

An exclamation from Perrin dragged her out of her reverie, and she moved to see what he had found. He had opened another box and was examining its contents, looking perplexed. He picked up an orange-and-white device with two straps, several buttons, and a narrow screen.

“What’s this?” he asked, turning it over in his hands.

Amy knelt beside him and looked at the object, then shrugged. “Some old game or something, I bet. You know, like those Twenty Questions things?”

Perrin pressed a few buttons, but nothing happened. “Dead,” he pronounced, and started looking for a battery compartment.

As he did, Amy leaned forward to see what else was in the box, holding her hair back with one hand and aiming her phone’s light with the other. A second later, she drew in a sharp breath.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “There’s guns.”

“ _What?_ ” Lucy joined her and followed her gaze. There in the box, along with another device like the one Perrin held, were what appeared to be two guns — or at least, that was Lucy’s best guess as to what they were. They didn’t look like any guns she’d seen on TV. There was also a pair of smaller objects, similarly designed, that could have been guns too. They reminded Lucy of a small, plastic water gun she’d had as a kid.

Tentatively, she reached out a hand. Amy caught her wrist, looking scared.

“What are you doing?” Amy hissed. “Those’ve gotta be dangerous.”

Lucy shook free. “I’m not after the guns, or whatever,” she whispered, not sure why she was whispering. “Look what’s under them.” Reaching into the box, she grasped a handful of fabric and pulled. What she was holding turned out to be a jacket of some kind, made of a brown material she didn’t recognize and fastened down the front with a row of large square buckles.

“Huh.” Amy frowned and, forgetting the guns, dug around some more in the box. A few minutes later, she had found another jacket like the one Lucy held, along with two identical long-sleeved shirts in an unfamiliar style, and two pairs of light-colored pants. Fastened to each pair of pants was a diagonally slung belt with an empty holster.

“Two of everything,” Lucy noted, studying the clothes and equipment. “Looks like some kind of uniform.” The fabric felt strange to the touch, unlike anything she’d ever felt. Perrin bent to examine one of the star-shaped gold pins that were attached on either side of the collar of both jackets.

“It seems military,” Amy agreed, “with the guns and all. But I’ve never seen anything  like it, and I’ve watched a lot of war movies.”

“Should we ask the grands about it?” Perrin suggested.

None of them was especially keen to go downstairs and admit they’d been snooping around in the attic, but they were all desperately curious about their find, and could think of no other way to discover what this stuff was. So at last, after sitting and talking in circles for ten minutes, they made their way back to the trapdoor, dragging the box with them.

Trooping down the stairs, they peered anxiously around the corner to see their grandparents now seated at the table. As they watched, Jamie drained her cup of tea and stood to put the mug in the dishwasher. As she did, she yawned.

“I’d better go to bed,” she remarked. “I think I’m getting too old to run around at the beach all day.”

“Hey,” said Dillon. “You’re younger than both of us.”

“So? You’re old too, then.” Kissing Troy and Dillon goodnight, she headed for the stairs. She pulled up short when she caught sight of the three teenagers standing there, a box in Amy’s hands and guilty expressions on all their faces.

“Hi, Grandma,” said Amy, plastering on a cheery grin.

Jamie had enough experience with teenagers not to be fooled. “What have you been up to?” she asked, crossing her arms.

They exchanged a look, then Lucy took a deep breath. “We were in the attic,” she confessed. Jamie’s eyebrows raised.

“And?”

“And —” Lucy cast a glance at the box in her sister’s hands. “We found some stuff. We wanted to ask what it was.”

“Did you?” Jamie’s tone was noncommittal. “What is it?”

Amy shifted the box onto one arm and used the other to flip open the top and pull out one of the uniform jackets. Jamie’s expression froze.

“What are these?” Lucy asked.

“Those — those are —” Jamie was obviously struggling to hide her shock. “That’s just some old —”

“Halloween costumes,” finished Troy easily, coming to stand beside Jamie. “Dillon and I dressed up in those one year.”

“Dressed up as what?” Amy asked, frowning at the jacket. “What is this supposed to be?”

“I, uh —” Stymied, Troy ran a hand through his hair and looked helplessly at Jamie.

Lucy folded her arms in an uncanny mirror of her grandmother. “Come on. Now you’re just making it weirder.”

Dillon appeared at Jamie’s other elbow and looked for a long moment at the box in Amy’s hands, then at Troy. “I told you we should have destroyed that stuff.”

“And been helpless if there’d been an emergency?” Troy countered, raising one eyebrow.

“Troy, we gave up that life a long time ago. It’s not our job —”

“Would you really turn your back on our people if they needed us?”

Dillon didn’t have anything to say to that. Amy looked back and forth between the two for several seconds, then said, “What the hell? ‘Our people’? What kind of weird organization were you two involved with?”

Dillon and Troy looked at each other for another long moment. Jamie glanced anxiously between them. Finally, Dillon spoke.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to our grandkids. We have to tell them.”

“Yeah,” Lucy agreed, “I think you do.”

Jamie sighed. “Oh, Lord. All right. Well, this might take a while, so why don’t we sit down in the living room? I’ll put on some more tea.”

In a couple of minutes, they were all assembled on the large, L-shaped couch that took up most of the living room. It had started to rain, and Lucy listened to the patter of droplets on the windows while she waited for her grandparents to begin.

Troy spoke first. “We’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he assured them. “But you’ll find it hard to believe. In fact, you may walk out of here thinking we’re all completely out of our minds. I want you to understand that what we’re going to tell you is true, every word of it.”

Lucy looked over at her sister and cousin. They both looked as confused as she felt.

“All right.” Troy sighed. “I guess the best place to start is this: Dillon and I weren’t born on Earth.”

“Huh? Then where —”

“We were born on a different planet,” Dillon explained. “Actually, two different planets — Troy was born on Caprica, my family was from Picon. We’re — for lack of a better word — aliens.”


	2. Memory Lane

“Okay, I, _what now_?” Amy stared. “You expect us to believe —”

“Honestly, no.” Troy gave a tired smile. “I’d be stunned if you believed that right away. But it’s true.”

“So, what, you’re not human?” Lucy pressed, cocking her head. “What are you, then — Vulcans or something?”

“Oh, we’re human, all right,” Dillon said. “We’re just…a different branch of human.”

Jamie returned from the kitchen bearing a tray loaded with mugs of tea, as well as a plate of lemon bars. She set it on the coffee table and offered the teenagers a wan smile.

“Believe me,” she told them, “I know how you feel.”

Lucy looked at her. “So you’re not…whatever they are?” she asked, waving a hand at Troy and Dillon. Jamie cast a fond smile at the two of them, then looked back to her granddaughter.

“No, I’m not. I met them when they first came to Earth. They kept getting into trouble, and it was always me who had to get them out.”

“Hey,” protested Dillon. “We got out of some scrapes on our own.”

“Such as?”

“We handled New York without you,” Dillon insisted.

Jamie scoffed. “Oh, yes, once I reserved your flights and agreed to look after twelve children for you, you were just fine! Except for the mess you got into on the airplane, and being chased by the police all over New York City, and getting caught in the middle of a dance routine wearing sequined tailcoats…”

“Dillon,” Troy put in, “her memory’s too good. I don’t think we can win this one.”

Dillon harrumphed and took his cup of tea from the tray. Amy waved her hands, trying belatedly to keep the conversation on track.

“Okay, slow down. Why were the police…no, never mind. I don’t care what happened in New York. Go back to the bit where my grandparents are _aliens from another fucking planet_.”

“Language,” Dillon chided through a mouthful of lemon bar. Amy rolled her eyes at him.

Troy patted Dillon’s knee. “You’re right, Amy,” he said. “We should start at the beginning.” He pondered for a moment. “I guess that means a history lesson. You see —” he met each of his grandchildren’s eyes in turn “— humans didn’t evolve naturally on Earth. Or at least,” he amended, “they didn’t _just_ evolve here. We’re not really sure of the details. What we do know is that sometime in ancient history, this planet was settled by a tribe of humans from a distant planet known as Kobol.”

Everyone watched him in silence. Troy took a sip of tea before continuing. “Nobody knows for certain why the tribes fled Kobol. Some say a series of massive natural disasters drove them out. Others think they poisoned their planet’s air and soil until it was impossible to live there. Some think it was the wrath of the gods that made them leave.

“Whatever the case, the thirteen tribes all left Kobol. Twelve traveled as a group, seeking a new home together. Eventually, those twelve tribes founded the Twelve Colonies, where Dillon and I were born.” He took a deep breath. “The thirteenth tribe, whose name we don’t know, set off alone. They were the ones who colonized Earth.”

No one spoke for a moment. The three teenagers stared, unsure whether to laugh at the absurd story. Their grandparents watched them carefully, wondering how they would react.

At last, Amy shook her head. “That’s ridiculous,” she declared. “That’s, like, some weird Ancient Aliens BS.”

“Why would we lie to you?” It was Jamie who spoke, looking calmly at her grandchildren with a slightly furrowed brow.

“How should I know?” Amy retorted. “You have a weird sense of humor.”

Dillon let out a short laugh at that. “This would be a lousy prank, even by our standards,” he pointed out. Lucy had to admit that was true.

“So, if you really were…” she waved a hand vaguely. “You know. Born on another planet. Why did you come here? Earth’s not that cool.”

Troy sighed again. “It gets stranger here. You ready?” He looked around at them all, then went on. “Our home colonies were destroyed by an evil race of robots bent on wiping out the human species.”

Lucy sat back in disbelief. “Okay, now you really lost me.”

Jamie made a rueful face. “Sounds like the plot of some low-budget 80s sci-fi, doesn’t it?”

Troy glanced at her, then picked up his narration. “I was six when the Cylons attacked. I remember them flying over the city, blasting buildings apart. Everything was falling down and on fire. My daggit — my dog — ran off, and I never saw him again. My mother held onto me through it all. I didn’t know what was happening, but I was sure we were going to die.

“After the explosions stopped, a group of us got together to try to find a way out. We were lucky enough to be near the place where a military commander, Adama, had landed his shuttle to get some things from his house. His son Apollo was there too, and they took as many of us as they could in the shuttle.”

Lucy started at the names. “Adama?” she repeated. “Apollo? Aren’t those —”

Troy nodded. “My father and grandfather,” he confirmed. “I didn’t know them then. After they took us back to their ship, my mother wound up falling in love with Apollo. From then on, we were part of their family.”

“I was on a different planet,” Dillon put in. “My family lived in a small town on a planet called Picon. We escaped the main brunt of the first Cylon attack, which was focused on the big cities and military bases. We managed to get on an agricultural ship that had stopped at the nearby farming area for a fresh supply of pollinators. I was only two,” he added, “so I don’t actually remember this. I only know what happened because my parents used to talk about it.

“I grew up on that agro ship,” he continued. “My parents weren’t farmers, but they knew enough about growing crops that they were needed there. I met Troy in school, years later. Everyone called him Boxey back then.” He smiled. “I tagged along after him because he had this great mechanical daggit — dog — called Muffit. And,” he admitted, “because he was Captain Apollo’s son, and I wanted desperately to be a Colonial Warrior someday.”

“Colonial Warrior?” Lucy frowned. “What’s —”

Troy gestured to Amy, and she reluctantly passed him the box that she had been holding on her lap. He opened it and pulled out a jacket, smiling slightly at the memories.

“The Colonial Warriors protected the fleet,” he explained. “That’s just the name for our military officers.” He pulled a pin off the jacket’s collar and showed it to them. “This was our insignia. Putting on a uniform like this one was the fondest hope of many young boys in the fleet.”

“Only boys?” Amy asked, raising her eyebrows. Troy met her gaze.

“There were female Warriors, too,” he said. “But the military was definitely a male-dominated organization, not unlike here. I remember my parents having a fight when my father found out that my mother was training to be a pilot.”

“So,” Lucy persisted, “you were both young kids when this…Cylon attack happened. What happened then?”

Troy contemplated his tea. “Then,” he replied, “we set out to find Earth. The home of the lost thirteenth colony. Nobody actually knew where it was, or how to find it.”

“Then how —”

“It took almost thirty years,” Troy said. “Both of us grew up in space, without a home other than the ships we lived on. Lots of people died. My mother, my father. There were a lot of times when we thought we would never find Earth.”

“But we did,” Dillon concluded. “I’ll never forget the day Adama announced that we had finally reached the planet we’d been looking for as long as I could remember. Everyone was crying and laughing and drinking and dancing. Now, _that_ was a party for the ages.”

“Of course, the good news didn’t last long,” Troy continued. “We soon found out that the Cylons had been following us the whole time, staying just out of our sensor range. And then Doctor Zee told us that Earthlings were too primitive to pose any kind of threat to the Cylons, and it would be all we could do to keep Earth from being destroyed alongside us. He sent down teams of warriors to assess the situation on Earth, and see if we could hurry along the technological development a little.”

Jamie spoke up. “That’s when I met them,” she explained. “I was on my way to a job interview, and found these two rifling a coin box in a phone booth.”

“Hey!” protested Dillon. “We didn’t know what was going on, okay? We needed to get in touch with…that scientist. What was his name?”

“Mortinson.” Jamie shrugged. “I gave them a lift into town and from then on, I couldn’t avoid getting tangled up in every ridiculous scheme. Time travel, stolen cop cars, flying motorcycles, superhuman children — the whole set.”

“When did all this happen?” Lucy asked.

At the same moment, Amy demanded, “Hang on, did you say _time travel_?”

Jamie looked back and forth between the two girls, amused. “It was in 1980,” she said to Lucy. “At least, it was mostly in 1980.” She looked to Amy. “And yes. I know this is hard to believe, but we did…go back in time. First to Nazi Germany, then to pre-Revolutionary America. After we got back from that trip, the time machine was fried. Can’t say I’m sorry about that.”

Amy took a deep breath. “Wow,” she said. “You do hear how this sounds, don’t you?”

“Yes, I know.” Jamie rubbed both hands down her face. “Look, I wouldn’t believe it in your place, either. I didn’t believe it myself until these two started doing things like turning invisible and flying into space.”

Lucy considered that for a minute, then suggested, “So why don’t you give us some proof now?” She directed the question at Troy and Dillon, who exchanged a glance. Dillon shrugged.

“Might as well,” he said.

Troy shuffled through the box until he found one of the unusual devices with the straps and buttons. Strapping it onto his wrist like a watch, he fumbled around the edges. “It’s been a while.”

“Those don’t work.” Perrin had sat in silence throughout the entire conversation, nursing his tea and watching everyone closely. “Batteries are dead.”

Troy smiled slightly. “Not these,” he replied. “It would take centuries for these batteries to wear out. I just have to find — there.” The device powered up with a quiet noise, and a green light on it began to blink slowly.

“All right.” Troy looked around the room again. “Now, watch closely. There’s no sleight of hand here. All I’m going to do is press this button —”

He pressed the button. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then Troy vanished.

Lucy gaped at the spot where her granddad had been sitting. There was still a depression in the couch cushions between Dillon and Jamie, she realized, as if someone invisible were sitting there. As she watched, the depression disappeared, and the soft scuff of slippers on hardwood sounded near her.

An invisible hand brushed her shoulder and she jerked away, staring at the apparently empty space in front of her. “It’s all right, Luce,” came Troy’s steady voice from out of thin air. “It’s just me.”

Tentatively, Lucy reached out a hand. She felt fabric — a shirt. A solid body. An arm, a hand that took hers. “Okay,” she whispered, “this is really, really weird.”

She was aware of Amy and Perrin staring at her, open-mouthed. She tried to tell herself that this was impossible, that one’s grandparents did not simply turn invisible, but the evidence of her senses couldn’t be denied. At last, she dropped her hand and sat back, stunned.

A moment later, Lucy saw Amy stiffen as the invisible hand reached out to her. Amy put out a hand as Lucy had done, feeling the air in front of her until she encountered some unseen obstacle. Amy gasped and shrank back, shaking her head. Lucy took her sister’s hand and Amy gripped it hard, her breathing uneven.

When Troy moved on to Perrin, the boy didn’t move at all — just sat stock-still as familiar hands rested on his shoulders, and that disembodied voice spoke again.

“I know this seems unbelievable,” Troy said. “I’m sorry to frighten you. Sometimes — well, anyway, I’m sorry.” A moment later, he faded back into sight, about eight feet from where they had last seen him. The teenagers all stared at him. Amy gulped audibly.

“So —” Lucy began after a long pause. Her mouth felt dry, and she took a sip of tea, hardly noticing how hot it was. “So what happened when you found Earth? Why did you go back in time? What about the Cylon things?”

“There was a member of the Council — our governing body — who went rogue,” Troy explained, resuming his seat between Dillon and Jamie. “His name was Xaviar. He thought the only way to defeat the Cylons was to travel to Earth’s past and introduce technological advances earlier in history, so that by the time our fleet arrived, this planet would be capable of defending itself.”

“Of course,” Jamie interjected, “Xaviar’s first bright idea was to give advanced nuclear weapons to Nazi Germany. Stopping him was my first official mission with these two.”

“But you succeeded,” Lucy pressed. “Xaviar’s dead?”

“He is,” Troy confirmed. “But we didn’t kill him on that mission. We destroyed his rocket, but Xaviar escaped. We didn’t get rid of him for good until three years later.”

“There’s…something else you should know,” Dillon added, looking fidgety. He exchanged a look with both his partners, then went on, “Xaviar’s the one who killed your grandparents. Your biological ones, I mean.”

It took a moment for that to sink in. It was Perrin who got there first. “You mean —” he stammered. “Do you mean that our parents — that Dad and Aunt Starla, they’re —”

“Not from Earth,” Dillon finished. “Yes. Starla and Lip were born in space. They were both very young when we arrived, though, so they don’t remember much of the _Galactica_.”

“The _Galactica_?”

“Our home ship,” Troy explained. “It was the last Battlestar left from the old Colonial Fleet.”

“Oh, my God,” Lucy moaned, putting her face in her hands. “This is what Harry Potter felt like, isn’t it? ‘Yer a wizard, Harry.’ ‘You’re an alien, Lucy.’” She took a deep breath, then lifted her head. “You said you killed Xaviar, but what about the Cylons? Are they still —”

“Earth is safe,” Troy said quickly. “Doctor Zee came up with a way to protect this solar system from them entirely. Inspired by Earth technology, actually. There’s a transmitter on the planet Neptune that emits microwaves at a wavelength that disrupts Cylon circuitry.”

Perrin tilted his head. “Won’t they find a way to shield themselves from it eventually?”

“Maybe. But they’re unlikely to pay much attention to this system. We disabled all of the Cylon fleet that chased us here, and managed to interfere with their long-range communications so their central command wouldn’t know where they were. Even if they did know, it would take them decades to get another fleet out here, and as it is, they’d have to search every solar system they came across. I don’t think they’ll waste the resources — we’re a long way from where they live, and we don’t pose a threat to them anymore.”

“Huh.” Lucy leaned forward over her knees and clasped her hands around the back of her neck. “I hope you’re right.”

Perrin had reached over and lifted the remaining wrist device out of the box. He turned it over in his hands, looking closely at it. “How does that work? The invisibility thing.”

“To tell you the truth,” Troy admitted, “I’m not really sure. Something about wavelengths outside human perception. You’d have to ask Doctor Zee for specifics.”

“Who’s that?” Lucy asked, looking up. Troy let a puff of air out through his nose and looked as though he regretted mentioning the name.

“A child prodigy,” he answered. “An extraordinary genius. He designed a lot of tech to help us survive on Earth, including these watches.”

“Where is he now?” Perrin asked.

“He still lives on the _Galactica_ ,” Dillon answered, holding his mug in both hands. “He couldn’t assimilate into Earth society as easily as the rest of us — not that it was particularly easy for us,” he added with a small grin in Jamie’s direction.

Nobody seemed to know what else to say. The teenagers were still reeling, and sipped their tea mechanically. Their grandparents watched them with varying combinations of regret, concern, and nervousness.

Amy finished her tea and stood up. “I’m going to bed,” she declared.

It was only around ten thirty — much earlier that any of the cousins usually went to bed, especially during the summer — but Lucy and Perrin got up too, mumbling “good night” to their grandparents as they followed her. Halfway up the stairs, Lucy stopped and sat down, resting her elbows on her knees. She was too jittery to really think of sleep. After a puzzled glance, Perrin shrugged and joined her. Amy carried on upstairs.

In the living room, Jamie ran her hands through her hair. “I guess that went as well as could be expected.”

“It’s a lot to take in,” Dillon agreed. “I’m half-surprised they didn’t laugh in our faces and leave the minute we mentioned aliens.

“They’re good kids,” said Troy. The others nodded and murmured assent.

Dillon gathered up the empty mugs and the plate of lemon bars, and took them to the kitchen. On his way back, he paused where a guitar hung on the wall and lifted it down, strumming idle chords as he sat on the couch again.

“Play something,” suggested Jamie, leaning back and watching him.

Dillon paused in his strumming. “What should I play?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something nice.”

Troy passed Dillon a songbook from a shelf by the couch, and Dillon flipped through it at random. He landed on a page and looked at it, then shrugged. “Sure, why not? ‘The Water is Wide.’”

He shifted the guitar in his lap and picked out the intro. Jamie and Troy moved closer to him, and all three began to sing. The song was an old favorite of theirs, and they all knew the lyrics by heart. Jamie even had a harmony worked out in parts. Troy took Jamie’s hand as they sang, and rested their clasped hands on his knee.

When the final chords shivered and died away, Jamie tipped back her head and let out a sigh. “Well, that was melancholy,” she noted. “Can we do something a little more cheerful next?”

“Like this?” Dillon grinned and strummed a series of rapid, jaunty chords. “ _I’ll tell me ma when I get home_ ,” he sang, “ _the boys won’t leave the girls alone. They pulled my hair, they stole —_ ”

“Enough!” Jamie grimaced. “I don’t have the energy for that.”

“So not too sad, but not too energetic,” Dillon mused. “What does that leave us?”

“Here.” Troy had been paging through the songbook, and now passed it back to Dillon, who looked at the page and nodded.

“That should do the trick. Hang on, I need a capo for this.” He stood and went to a drawer, where he rifled for a few seconds before nodding and returning to the couch. He placed the capo and tested the sound, then played the opening chords to the song Troy had selected.

Jamie smiled and closed her eyes. “Perfect.”

“ _Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me_ ,” the three sang together. “ _I’m not sleepy, and there is no place I’m going to…_ ”

On the stairs, Lucy leaned back on her elbows, listening. Her grandparents were no Von Trapp family — Jamie’s intonation tended a bit sharp, and Dillon often rushed his entrances, and Troy tried too hard to hit notes outside of his range — but they had been singing together for a long time, and Lucy thought their singing was some of the most beautiful she’d ever heard. _They’ve been through a lot together_ , she realized, thinking of Cylons and Nazis and whatever other forces the three had come up against. _It’s good they can still sing. Good they have each other_.

When the song ended, Jamie curled her legs up onto the couch and leaned into Dillon’s shoulder. Troy had moved to Dillon’s other side in order to read the lyrics over his shoulder. Dillon plucked the final note again and let it fade, then set the guitar on the table and sat back, putting an arm around each of his partners. They sat quietly for several seconds, enjoying each other’s presence, then Troy said, “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

Hastily, Lucy and Perrin got to their feet and slipped upstairs and into their respective rooms. Lucy found Amy lying on her back, hands behind her head, staring at the dark ceiling.

“Well,” said Lucy, shutting the door behind her as quietly as she could, “that was a weird evening.”

“Yeah.” Amy’s voice sounded faded somehow. “I’m going to sleep.” She rolled onto her side and closed her eyes. Lucy looked at her for a moment, then slipped out again to brush her teeth. _Good night, then_.


End file.
